


Tooth and Claw

by Anonymous



Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Adopted Sibling Incest, F/M, Mental Health Issues, Possessive Behavior, Revelations path, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-27
Updated: 2019-04-27
Packaged: 2020-01-12 00:00:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18434834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: “I could go out there right now,” he says, hushed, “and attack Ryoma, and you would slaughter the entire Hoshidan army for me, wouldn’t you?”A look at a darker Corrin/Xander, because growing up with a dad like King Garon doesn’t make for healthy family dynamics.  Post-Ch.17 in Rev, but no real spoilers.





	Tooth and Claw

*

 

Corrin watches in wary silence as the two crown princes face off.  Ryoma, whose marginally longer stay with them seemed to have encouraged some sense of generosity or maybe superiority, is holding his hand out to Xander.  The Nohrian prince, for his part, is standing a safe distance away and eyeing the outstretched hand like it’s a snake about to strike.  The glint in his eye says he’s thinking about dealing with it in the same way that one would a snake, as well.

Corrin focuses on breathing, and carefully doesn’t think about all the things that would tempt in the panic that always boils around the edges of her control these days.  Some days it seems like her heart hasn’t stopped racing for a second since she’d left her prison – her _home_ – in Nohr.  She’s always been afraid, had dealt with fear even in her safe fortress, but it was different back then.  Xander had made it different.  Only his presence could truly soothe the constant buzz of her anxiety, and only the sounds of him practicing at night had ever driven back her nightmares enough to let her rest.  He was her guardian, her defense against all the unknown monsters lurking in the dark of her nightmares and just outside the fortress walls, but as long as he was there she knew she was safe.  Because he would always protect her.  He had said so, and she had believed him.

She realizes now that so much of that fear had been about powerlessness, and trauma – her vaguely recalled memories of blood and loss had assured her that there was danger about, but kept cloistered and helpless, she was completely unable to identify that danger or build trust in her own ability to protect herself.  Now free, finally, she’s been able to measure the depth of that danger and test the skills Xander had taught her to protect herself – and Xander had been a good teacher, yes, but oh, everything else was _so much worse—_

Because Xander wasn’t there.  He wasn’t with her, and though the Hoshidans were nice and somehow familiar and everything they said made sense, _he_ wasn’t there and so she never felt truly safe.  That buzz of fear just kept building and building, and she wasn’t even surprised when it all blew up in her face and no one was there to save her except for herself and the dark, terrible power that she’d always somehow known was there, lurking deep within her, just waiting for her most unguarded moment to burst free. 

And then Xander _was_ there, but she wasn’t—she wasn’t the same, and she was just barely holding herself together but somehow he looked right at her and didn’t _see_ any of that, he turned away from her and it was all she could do not to shatter and roar and bathe the whole field in blood with the strength of her terror and panic. 

So, very carefully, she doesn’t think about what will happen if Xander should strike.  She doesn’t think about the scythe-like claws that she will gouge into Ryoma’s back if he dares to threaten her big brother.  She doesn’t think about the spiked wings she would use to slash apart Takumi’s bow hand and beat Sakura back, or about the fangs she’d plunge into the pure white neck of Hinoka’s proud pegasus to keep her grounded.  But most of all, she very, _very_ carefully doesn’t think about what would happen if Xander were to simply turn his back on them all and walk away, because she knows in her bones that she won’t be able to let him leave again.

Instead, she breathes.  She holds herself very still around the monster inside, and watches, and breathes.

After possibly the longest minute in Corrin’s short, sheltered life, Xander takes Ryoma’s hand.

Corrin must make some sound – some loud sigh or sharp gasp of relief, or maybe they’re just that attuned to each other, still – for Xander’s eyes flick over to her.  Her heart kicks up into high gear immediately because he hasn’t looked straight at her once, not once in this entire fight where it had been “tactically sound” to split up and hold opposite sides of the line and she thinks, for a second, that finally he will _see_ —

But he looks away almost immediately, as if only just noticing what he’d done, and turns to see to his horse.  His brave black mare had thrown a shoe and even through the rage of battle Corrin had noticed and worried, for that horse is her friend too.  Their lives are so closely intertwined that she’s sure hers would fray and come apart entirely if she ever tried to cut him out of it, and yet it seems like Xander can’t see her at all anymore.

Something warm pushes at her hand: Kaden, in fox form, looking up at her with soft, worried brown eyes.  It doesn’t take much more than that.  She gives in, collapsing to her knees and burying her hands deep in his thick fur, holding him close and listening to his heart beat.  He nuzzles closer, tail waving happily, and she feels his wet nose on her neck moments before he licks her ear.

She stays like that for longer than is probably seemly for a princess of Nohr and a battlefield commander.  But it’s _Kaden_.  His simple happy presence calms her dragon, and she needs this moment of peace.

Eventually, she rises to tend to her own horse, Kaden loyally following at her heels.  He’s forced out from the stables soon enough, though; while Corrin’s own horse has a lot of experience with the kistune and trusts him, he makes the other horses nervous, especially the new Nohrian additions.  Subaki eventually wanders over to see what all the fuss among the horses is about and shoos him off at spearpoint, muttering curses under his breath about people who let foxes into henhouses all the while.  It’s almost enough to make Corrin smile.

So it is that she’s alone when she steps out of the stables and almost directly into Xander.  He’s been waiting for her, apparently. 

“We need to talk,” he says, and his voice is thin, strained.  He hasn’t removed his armor, tending to his horse before himself as is so typical for him, and dust from the battle still coats his hair, turning the normal shining gold a dull bronze.  To her relief he doesn’t seem injured, though the way he’s standing just a little too straight tells her he’s tired and trying to hide it, as he always does. 

He still won’t _look_ at her.

She feels the dragon clawing up her throat but she just nods stiffly, like her head is on a pike, and does her best not to make any expression at all.

They go to her tent which, thanks to Jakob’s tireless devotion, is one of the few structures already standing in their makeshift camp.  He gives them both a passive aggressive bow as they shoo him out, and only agrees to leave at all after Corrin swears upon her heart that she won’t try to set up a single piece of furniture by herself in his absence.

The tent flap hasn’t even fully closed behind him when Xander grabs her.

And Corrin – she’s still tense as a live wire, crackling with that dark, barely controlled power, and when she feels those big fingers grip her shoulder hard enough to bruise, it flares to life.  Strength surges through her bones, panic setting her blood afire, and the flames she’s been holding back burst out in a blazing blue corona of heat and violence.  She only registers the slight pressure of lips on hers after she’s already thrown him across the room.

Xander doesn’t move for a long moment.  Corrin’s heartbeat thuds so loudly in her own ears that she feels like she’s going to burst apart with it.  Her eyes feel hot and her hands are shaking and she can only stare at him, lying there crumpled on the ground, too scared to move or speak in case he’s not okay, in case she _kil—_

But then he moves.  He groans, rolling up on his knees with a creak of strained plate, and Corrin’s knees almost give out in relief.  He’s alive, he’s alive, it’s okay, everything’s okay because he’s alive—

And he'd kissed her.  _Xander_ , her brother, crown prince of Nohr, had kissed her.

Her eyes widen as she stares at him, shock stilling the apologies that were about to spill from her lips.  He squints up at her, clearly still dazed, and neither of them speak for a long while.  Finally, Xander bows his head.

“Of course,” he says, and Corrin is relieved beyond measure to hear his voice sound steady and mostly normal.  “You’re angry.  Why wouldn’t you be?  There’s no excuse for what I’ve put you through these past months.  I should have trusted you from the start.  To think that _Ryoma_ was the first to—” he cuts himself off with a snarl and takes a moment to master his expression before continuing.  “I am deeply, truly sorry for doubting you.  I swear that I will make it up to you, no matter how long it takes.”

Some small, distant part of Corrin is aware that she should probably feel upset about the kiss, or at the very least concerned, or disturbed, or _something_.  But listening to Xander apologize, all she feels is a dark, twisting sense of satisfaction.  She has his attention again.  Finally.

“We’ll announce our engagement in the morning,” he says, rising to his feet with a reassuring steadiness, and—

Wait.  _What?_

“I apologize for that, too,” he continues, frowning at the ground and apparently not yet noticing her shock.  His tone is apologetic but entirely matter of fact, like he doesn’t expect any of this to be news to her.  “It should have been announced much sooner.  The Nohrian armies wouldn’t have dared to strike at their future queen, and probably even the Hoshidans would have thought twice about their claim on you.  We might have avoided much of this.  I should have pressed Father more on it, but for whatever reason he wanted to wait, and it always seemed like we had so much time.”

“Xander,” she manages, her first word since they’d stepped into the tent, and it must convey some measure of her bottomless confusion because he looks up immediately and seems briefly alarmed before his expression shutters.

“He didn’t tell you,” he says, and his voice is utterly flat.  “Father never told you.”

Corrin just shakes her head mutely.  Xander sighs.

“Well, it will be a long engagement, obviously.  Plenty of time for you to get used to the idea.”

That same small, distant part of Corrin thinks she should be more upset – and she is confused, desperately confused and startled, but that dark, sick feeling of satisfaction is also rising. What better way to ensure Xander will always be with her, always be focused on her?  The idea is already appealing, and that small, scared, desperate part of her that used to stay up to watch her big, brave brother slash at ghosts instead of sleeping wants to latch on to it with both hands and never let go, let that promise of safety envelope her. 

Still.  There’s something unnerving about how matter of fact he is, how little he was phased by the revelation that she had never agreed to this.  It would be a dramatic shift in their relationship, and that scares her, too.  And she’s no longer that small, desperate little girl, not quite.

“Xander, you’re my _brother_ ,” she begins, but he rounds on her immediately.

“And you’re _my_ intended,” he counters, something hard in his eyes that she’s rarely seen directed her way.  “I’ve known from the start, even if Father never saw fit to inform you.  Why else do you think a king would bother taking in and raising an enemy princess?  Why would he put all that effort into training you and allowing you so close to the family unless he had a sure method of tying you to our side?  The plan was always for us to marry.”

“Father’s plan,” she points out, and even to her ears her voice sounds thin, ghost-like.  Unsure.  “Not ours.”

“There’s no difference.”  He sounds so certain, his voice as hard and unyielding as the crown on his head.  “It’s been decided.  You’re mine, and have been since we were kids.  Or are you saying you don’t want to marry me?”

That’s far too direct a question to answer head on, even if she wants nothing more than to rush to reassure him.  Mostly.  She heard the note of danger in his voice, of threat almost, and a dark part of her wants to say no, just to see what he’d do. 

“You’re my brother,” she just repeats instead, weakly.  “What about – Camilla, Leo, Elise.  What would they think?”

“Camilla already knows,” he answers easily.  “Elise has no idea, but you would just become the big sister in truth that she always thought you were.  She’d be overjoyed.  And Leo won’t be surprised.  We never outright told him, but he’s smart enough to know how these things work, and I haven’t exactly been subtle these last few years.”

And he hasn’t, she realizes.  The amount of time he’d spent with her, enough that his real flesh and blood younger brother had become quite obviously jealous.  The way his hand had so often found the small of her back, guiding her, like he did with no one else.  How he always found reasons to be close to her.  The gifts, often jewelry or other finery, but also books and exotic weaponry, that’d he always present her with on his visits, claiming it as spoils from his growing list of military victories, his conflicted guilt turning to pride under her glowing smiles.  The way he’d insisted on being her dance partner in her lessons as she’d prepared for her upcoming court debut, and how no one around them had questioned it, including the dancing instructor.  He’d informed her they would share the first and last dance as well, as was traditional, and it occurs to her now that it was probably only traditional for a couple announcing their engagement.  She would have been announced not just as a captured Hoshidan princess, but the crown princess-to-be of Nohr.

She’d always wondered about these things, on some level.  Too many of her interactions with her big brother had echoes in the cheesy romance novels she’d stolen from Elise when she was younger.  But she’d always pushed those misgivings aside.  Those books were hardly accurate depictions of real life, and this family was all she could remember.  If she and her dear big brother were a little too close, well, what was the harm?  She wanted to be as close with him as she could, for as long as she could.

And despite everything, that’s still true.

“You’re a part of this family,” Xander growls now, and takes a step forward.  She feels a dark thrill at the way he’s looming, buoyed up by the fact that she’s already proven she’s the physically stronger of the two of them.  It’s a fact that makes her dizzy to consider, that she could become Xander’s protector too, just like he’d always been (and will always be) hers.  “That will never change, no matter what the Hoshidans say.  Your place is with us, and by my side.  Will you actually try to deny that?”

Corrin takes a deep breath, considering.  She knows what she wants to say, but she also knows she should be careful.  The way Xander’s acting…it’s dangerous.  It should scare her.

But then, she’s more than a little broken herself, isn’t she?

“I thought I might kill you,” she admits in a small, quiet voice, barely above a whisper.  The way his eyes widen tells her that he’s heard her anyway.  “Earlier, when it looked like you might not take Ryoma’s hand.  If you had tried to walk away and leave me again, I might have killed you.”  She swallows and looks away, unable to say the rest while looking at Xander’s startled blue eyes.  “I thought about killing him too, of course.  I thought about killing them all.  Even if you had struck first, even if they were only acting in self-defence, if any of them had raised a hand against you I would have cut them down.”

This could go one of two ways, Corrin knows.  He could turn out to be the healthier of the two of them, the less shattered, saner one, and be horrified – in which case, she will have made a terrible mistake and one of them might very well end up dead in this tent.  She finds she’s not too worried about this though, because she’s pretty sure it’s going to be the second option: where their damaged pieces fit together perfectly because they broke alongside each other and healed as best they could side by side, bent and misshapen but twisted around each other, and he will understand exactly what she’s trying to say.

It isn’t long before she gets her answer.  Xander smiles, slow and sharp, and in that smile Corrin sees every time he stepped between Father and his siblings, every time he took the blame and punishment that rightly should’ve been theirs, every time he blackened his own soul by playing the dutiful crown prince to keep the king’s temper in check and his baleful eye off of Corrin and Leo and Elise.  Xander’s protection has always come with a cost, and Corrin thinks on some level she’s always understood that too.  He’s sacrificed himself and his own morality to keep his family safe, but in return they can never be allowed to leave him.

“So we understand each other then,” he says, something dark glinting in his eyes. 

“We’ll announce the engagement in the morning,” she agrees, and her voice is so much steadier now.  Stronger.  Certain.  “To make sure there’s no confusion.”

He walks toward her then, his steps confident and sure, and she feels her dragon rise up to meet him.  Not to attack, though.  When Xander’s hand lands on her shoulder this time, a gentle blue flame curls up to meet him, wrapping around his wrist with a deceptively delicate hold.  He observes it with awe, his blue eyes glowing brightly with reflected fire. 

“I could go out there right now,” he says, hushed, “and attack Ryoma, and you would slaughter the entire Hoshidan army for me, wouldn’t you?”

Despite the dark awe in his voice, and the heat of his presence and intensity of his gaze, Corrin has to roll her eyes.  Trust Xander to see romance in a massacre.  Maybe it had been a mistake after all, telling him that.  “Please don’t.  I really don’t think I could win against the _entire_ army.”

“But you would try,” he insists, undeterred.  He’s still smiling, a dark, dangerous thing.  “For me.  My little princess.” 

“I still need time,” she feels the need to point out, before he gets any more enthusiastic.  

“And you shall have it.  Everyone will have all the time they need to adjust to the truth.”  He cups the back of her head and leans his forehead against hers, in a gesture that is no less intimate for being chaste.  “It is enough, for now, to know that that we will never again be parted.  Isn’t that right, my princess?”

And Corrin closes her eyes, feeling herself smiling, and knowing that her joy has easily enough teeth to match his. 

“It’s as you say, my prince.”

 

*


End file.
